Divine Intervention
by skyfire777
Summary: The Dragonborn slowly begins to realize that his world is subject to the whims of a gamer who readily uses console commands and mods. Naturally, this makes him slowly descend into insanity.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Yay! You decided to check out my fanfic! Just for that, you will get nothing. Well, technically you would be getting access to my fanfic which I hope you will find to be a good read. When I said that you get nothing I meant… fuck it just read my work.

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This is it. Bjorn was sure this was it. He had heard of the civil war raging in Skyrim and immediately decided to return to fight for the true Nords. He was in luck, or at least he thought he was, when he saw a Stormcloak party headed across the border. It was easy getting into their good graces, all he had to do was be a Nord and not be an elf. But now he was standing in line, waiting for his turn on the chopping block. He felt deaf, hearing nothing but the whisper of death in his ear, feeling nothing but its cold touch, seeing nothing but the headsman's axe and the block of stone, both coated in fresh blood.

The Imperial woman's voice called out his name, sounding like it came from miles away. He was next. He walked towards his executioner, head hung low in resignation to his fate. The cold steel and leather gauntlet of the Imperial woman pushed him down, forcing him onto his knees and onto the chopping block. His eyes focused on the dead man's head inside a wooden box. For a brief moment, he saw his own head within the box, his braided blond hair coated with blood, empty blue eyes staring into nothingness. As his pale Nordic skin touched the man's blood, cooled thanks to the unforgiving cold his homeland was known for, he felt a wellspring of defiance burst forth from within his being. No, he would NOT die today! Not while he had done nothing to help his country.

He prayed to Akatosh, to Kyne, to Talos, to all the gods he knew existed to save him from this predicament. As he looked up defiantly at his executioner, he saw it. He saw it as it swooped down from the sky, its black scales and red eyes a stark contrast to the gentle white and blue of the sky. And then it roared. He felt it shake the world, warping it to its will. The sky quickly began to dye red and the clouds swirled in a vortex as fire began to rain down upon the Imperial town. The force of its voice knocked him to the ground just as soon as he realized what he was looking at. It was a dragon, a very powerful dragon.

"Get up prisoner! The gods won't give you a second chance!"

Bjorn was snapped back into consciousness by the command. Immediately he got up and ran towards the source of the voice. His eyesight was blurry for some reason, perhaps he hit the ground harder than he thought. His legs were working overtime, however, as they carried him towards a stone tower. He barely registered his former fellow prisoners when he sprinted up the tower, instinct telling him that he had to go there.

He was sorely mistaken as the wall broke down and the dragon spoke fire into existence, bathing the entire room in flames. As he considered going back down, he saw that the door he entered through was now blocked, and so his only choice was to jump through the hole and into the burning inn just across the tower. Before he jumped, he scanned the town that was peaceful, though tense, just a few moments ago. Now it was in flames with soldiers and townsfolk running everywhere, some were fighing, some were running away, and some were dead.

Deciding that he had no time to waste, he jumped and landed on the inn's upper floor with a thud. He ran through the flames and down onto the ground floor where he met an Imperial soldier guarding some townsfolk. For a brief moment, he forgot about the fires raging around him and felt pure hatred against these people who denied his people their freedom. He wished Talos would smite him where he stood.

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In the instant that the thought of the gods smiting his enemies crossed his mind, the soldier… vanished. Bjorn was first confused, and then he felt giddy. At first he felt that the dragon attacking just before he was supposed to be beheaded was coincidence, but now he was fairly certain that it was divine providence. Surely the gods, especially Talos, was angered at the Empire for refusing to worship him and now He had granted Bjorn with this special power! His thoughts were interrupted as the dragon landed in front of him. He smiled. Not even dragons were a match against the Divine. He focused all his thoughts on the dragon, hoping to draw out his latent powers….

And nothing happened. He dove out of the way as the dragon exhaled flames in his direction, singeing his clothes. The dragon took to the air again, and Bjorn took this chance to run. He ran across the Imperials trying to fend off the dragon, dodging the fireballs that were dropping out of the sky, and into the town keep. Feeling safe inside the thick stone walls, he collapsed onto the floor.

Why hadn't his power made the dragon disappear? Perhaps the Imperials he saw were no more than ghosts within his mind, a trick of the light, his anger given form through imagination. The dragon was nothing more than a coincidence, not an act of divine intervention. Or perhaps it was divine intervention, but not for him, after all he vaguely remembered sitting beside Ulfric Stormcloak on the cart ride into Helgen. Perhaps it was him the gods were saving, or he had called upon the dragon using the power of the Thu'um. In any case, he was saved as an indirect result of that. He was not special, just lucky. He could make do with that.

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**A/N:** Well, what do you guys think? I think it's a pretty solid introduction. I could actually have kept going all the way to the first dragon fight but I figured that it might be better to serve this story in small chunks. That way I (hopefully) would get more specific and detailed reviews. Also, I like nachos a lot.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Well, this has been a long time coming but I had a lot to deal with. My mom got sick, my sister's building her own place (FYI, drying concrete causes severe burns. I have scars on my ass to prove it), final exams… all in all I am not in a, shall we say, 'Skyrim parody' kind of mood. But never let it be said that I abandoned a project. Had to read up on some rather interesting people to draw inspiration though. Like Mad Jack Churchill. Man's insane. You should check him out. He took on Nazis alone. With a sword. But I digress.

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The escape from Helgen was exactly how you would imagine a prison break from an enemy fort during a dragon attack. It was complete chaos. Bjorn could have sworn some of the enemy Imperials simply dropped dead where they stood, but he just credited it to the other Stormcloaks running with him. Unfortunately, almost all of his fellow Nords died and now he was here alone with Ralof, outside the fort and running towards Riverwood. He needed a drink.

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And it turns out he did have a drink with him. He probably pillaged it from one of the many Imperial corpses he looted. In any case, he popped off the cork and downed the entire bottle of Nord Mead in an instant. Immediately he could feel the relaxing effect of the brew and felt some of the strains of the past events just melt away. He briefly considered asking Ralof if he had any bread with him but decided against it. After all, the man was already doing so much for him and he didn't even give him some of his mead, which he now regret-

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Oh he had bread. And an extra bottle of mead to boot. Odd, he could have sworn that he only had one bottle of mead, a few potions and nothing else. He shook his head. The escape had been hectic and confusing. A lot happened that he didn't really pay much mind to. He broke the bread as evenly as he could and offered it to his companion, along with his extra mead.

Ralof simply stared at him, like he didn't understand the gesture. He didn't look confused, far from it. He just… stared for a few moments before turning around and running down the road again. To say Bjorn was confounded would be an understatement. Who the hell acts like that? Well if Ralof didn't want anything, it was his loss.

Finally, they arrived at Riverwood. Aside from a pair of wolves handily dispatched by his axe and Ralof's bow, the trip was largely uneventful. It was a quaint town, nothing like Helgen. Where Helgen had stone walls, large guard towers, and Imperial soldiers, Riverwood had wooden cabins, a cow, and some chickens. Bjorn took note of the forge by the river. He would have to visit the blacksmith to barter for armor and weapons not scavenged from a dead body or, failing that, asking for permission to use the grindstone to sharpen his axe. Right now, however, he needed to follow Ralof to the lumber mill in order to talk to his sister, Gerdur.

Bjorn smiled at the scene unfolding in front of him, that of a soldier coming home, however briefly, and talking to his sister. He wondered how his father was doing back in Cyrodiil. Already he had experienced a battle and survived a dragon attack well before he even joined the Stormcloaks. All this right after nearly getting his head chopped off by the headsman's axe. Death had a funny way of making you think of people you cared about.

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He was abruptly brought out of his thoughts when he noticed that Gerdur was now wearing nothing but her underwear. Her dress, boots, gloves… everything just vanished in a puff of air. And yet nobody: not her brother, her husband, or her son, took note of this. They just kept talking like it was normal for her to walk around like this in broad daylight. Gerdur didn't seem to mind, either. She wasn't shivering in the cold or trying to cover herself up. True, it wasn't much of a crime to run around naked, but you would make just about everyone feel uncomfortable and to try that in the freezing weather of Skyrim is just insane. Granted, she wasn't exactly naked but still-

*MOD INSTALLED: Calientes Female Body Mod Big Bottom Edition –CBBE-*

Bjorn was very happy.

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**A/N: **Ehh I feel like I can do better than this, but as of the moment this is the best I could belt out. All in all though, I'd say it's not too shabby. This is gonna be the point where we get less and less grounded on common sense and I start fucking with the Dragonborn. You might notice that I have practically zero dialogue. That's coz I wanna focus on our Dragonborn's thoughts on the events that happen, although I will have him talk a lot with our favourite companion, Lydia, once she comes in. I also have big plans for the chickens. I like peanut butter.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Holy fuck another long delay between updates. I really gotta make a schedule or something for this. Then again, I got a lot of crap I actually have to do like getting piss drunk and college and such. Plus this is just a pet project of mine. Yknow, something to do while I'm bored and I get tired thinking about all the other 5 stories in my head (another reason for the slow updates). In any case, ~300 views is rather impressive for just barely 2,000 words (for me, anyway. I got friends who are lucky to hit the 100 views mark). So yea, props you guys. Especially them reviewers. I would ride resurrected triceratops to battle for you guys.

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Melons. Milk jugs. Big round mounds. Bjorn could not get Gerdur's gourds out of his head. He couldn't stop thinking about them now, and he certainly couldn't stop thinking about them half an hour ago when he absent-mindedly agreed to tell Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon. Whiterun was quite the walk away from Riverwood and he had JUST butchered his way through a town on the verge of total collapse filled with Imperials who were inexplicably dedicated to containing the prisoners instead of, say, evacuating the town and running away. He understood that this was an important task, however. Dragons don't take sides in mortal wars and would just raid and massacre with impunity.

He passed a group of Imperial soldiers who were escorting what he assumed to be a Stormcloak prisoner. No doubt they were going to torture information out of the poor man. Bjorn unsheathed his axe; there was no harm in producing more dead Imperials. He charged the leading Imperial, axe raised above his head, and brought it down with all the force he could muster. The cold steel of his blade collided with the-

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Actually, it didn't collide at all. Before his weapon could chop through the Imperial bastard, he collapsed at Bjorn's feet. Bjorn had to admit: that never happened before and he wasn't expecting it to happen agai-

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…Did they all faint out of fear of him? He wasn't even that good of a fighter and he was fairly sure that he wasn't that famous. Maybe it was just the sight of a heavily armored Nord charging them down? No, it couldn't be. They were soldiers, well-trained ones at that. Cowards, maybe. Scum of the land, assuredly. But they were definitely not sissies who piss their pants at one random Nord with an axe. In any case, they were down and he had a prisoner to save.

Bjorn decided that freeing the prisoner without at least giving him a spare weapon and some food would be a bad idea, so he helped himself to the unconscious Imperials. But they were not unconscious. Oh no, in fact they were so unconscious that you might have considered them dead. His thoughts immediately went back to his time in Helgen, where some of the enemy soldiers would just drop dead. Perhaps they weren't killed by the other Stormcloaks… Perhaps he actually DID have divine powers! HA! The Empire would rue the day they tried to execute the Hand of the Divine! He would strike down the Emperor himself in the name of Ulfric! He woud-

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And then Bjorn was a woman.

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And now she-_ no HE(Deep down, Bjorn knew he was still a man)_ was naked. Beside a soldier who was just staring at him. Why though? Why was he suddenly turned to a woman? Was he wrong in demanding Imperial blood? No, he had the power to murder anyone with a mere thought and this certainly was given to him to better fight the Imperials since so far, it has only been- FOR THE LOVE OF TALOS WHEN WILL THAT DAMNED SOLDIER STOP STARING!

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Wait! Bjorn didn't mean to kill the Stormcloak. He began praying, no longer caring about his nudity. He knew he had the power to take life now, but he desperately wanted to save-

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And then one of the dead Imperials stood up and, like the Stormcloak before him, began staring. Bjorn sighed, this was not the life he wanted to save. He began praying again…

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And now he was argonian. A female argonian. He began doubting whether or not it was actually the divines who were granting him powers. Slowly, it began to dawn on him that it was probably one of daedric princes, most likely Sheogorath.

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Once again, the Imperial soldier died and another one of the corpses stood up in his place, this time the Stormcloak. Bjorn took it as a sign that she- _HE DAMMIT _was right. He would have to be more careful from now on. He wouldn't want to accidentally kill Ulfric or turn him into a Khajiit. Joining the Stormcloaks would be much harder now…

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**A/N: **Well, there you go. Hope that's satisfying. I would have gone on long enough to include the infamous 'arrow to the knee', but I figured he's had enough madness for one chapter. Heads up though, the next update MIGHT take long again, considering my delays in the previous ones. I like cookies


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